A Big Boy's Christmas
by BellaPur
Summary: Christmas as seen by Theodore Nott


**A Big Boy's Christmas **

You're a big boy now. A big boy of Eight, almost Nine. All grown up, almost. Christmas is very different when your a big boy of Eight, almost Nine and all grown up, almost.

Seven was a baby age. You were a baby when you were Seven. And baby's have Baby Christmases.

When you're a baby of Seven you get up as early as early can be. You jump into Mother and Father's bed yelling "It's Christmas! It's Christmas! Wake up, it's Christmas!" Father growls into his pillow that it's too early "Settle down Theodore!" But he doesn't growl too scarily, and his eyes smile even though they're closed. Father always smiles with his eyes. Never his mouth.

Mother smiles with her mouth _and_ her eyes. She sits up in bed and hugs you laughing.

"Merry Christmas Theo baby!"

"I'm not a baby. I'm Seven nearly Eight."

When you're Seven you think you're all grown up and not a baby. And you're nearly Eight even though you're birthday's not until next September and that's ages and ages away. Even though you _are_ a baby. When you're Seven.

It's different when you're Eight nearly Nine.

But Mother doesn't tell you that.

"Oh of course you are Theo. You're such a big boy now. You'll be almost as big as me soon."

Even though you're not and you won't be.

"Now shall we go down stairs and see what Father Christmas left?"

You believe in Father Christmas when you're a baby Seven.

Mother takes you downstairs by the hand. Or do you drag her behind you laughing. Laughing. Mother's always laughing when you're Seven. Still a baby but you don't know it.

You dive into your presents when you're Seven. You grab them and rip the wrapping paper off and Mother won't allow the House elves to clean it up yet. You and she kick through it like winter leaves. Father comes down the stairs and rolls his eyes at you.

"Don't encourage him Evangeline."

But his eyes still smile. When you're Seven.

"Oh leave us! We're having fun!"

Father does leave you. But he doesn't leave the room. When you're Seven. He stays and watches you and Mother as you play with the wrappings. And play with the toys. And play with each other. Mother is so good at playing. When you're Seven.

And when the presents are all opened Mother orders the House elves to clean up the mess you made while you go visiting family and friends.

You visit Grandmother and Grandfather Nott. They are very old and serious. Like Father. But they smile with their eyes and you know they love you. You only spend a short time with them. You'll see them later when they come round for Christmas dinner.

Then you visit Granny and Granda Rosier. They smile with their eyes _and_ their mouths. Like Mother. Granny Rosier pulls you into a hug and kisses your cheek. You wipe it off when she's not looking. You think she doesn't see when you're Seven. You think she doesn't know. Granda Rosier puts you on his shoulders and booms "Don't I have a fine Grandson!" And you smile and think _Yes. Yes I am a fine Grandson._

Mother's cousin and her family drop in.

"Cissy!"

"Evangeline!"

Her son is your age. Almost. He's Six nearly Seven, so you're older. But tha's close enough. You play and run about and have fun with him. When you're Seven. Father and Uncle Lucius aren't happy.

"Draco!"

"Theodore!"

"Be more careful!"

Except they _are_ happy. You can tell by their voices. They're not really angry. And you know they don't really mind when you knock things over and get under people's feet. When you're Seven.

You stay longer at Granny and Granda Rosiers' but you do have to go soon. You'll see them at Christmas dinner too. But now there are lots of other distant relative to visit. When you're Seven.

You let them pinch your cheeks and pat you on the head and say "He's a real credit to you Cassius." Or "Evangeline." It depends whether they're Father's family or Mother's. When you're Seven.

But you are very glad to get back home when you're Seven. The other relatives can be very boring. Almost as boring as getting dressed in nice clothes for Christmas dinner.

You fuss and you fuss and you fuss. Father tells you to "Do as you're told. You're Seven now, not a baby Theodore." You still fuss. Then Mother puts her hands on your shoulders to stop you bouncing and bends down very close to your ear and says very gently "Theo baby go put on your clothes like a big boy." And you stop fussing. Because it's Mother asking you nicely like a grown up. You let the house elf lead you away and dress you in your nice new robes. When you're Seven.

And once you're dressed the guests start to arrive and Father shakes all their hands and Mother kisses them on the cheek. But they don't make you stay with them. They let you go and play with the other children that have arrived. And you run around and bump into people and make lots and lots of noise and nobody minds, not even Father. You bounce and holler and shriek and play. When you're Seven.

And you don't even have to calm down for dinner. You sit at a special table with all the other children and you all eat soup and turkey and gravy and potatoes and carrots and mice pies and sweets and lots and lots and lots of Christmas pudding.

And even though Father tells you not to, all the Fathers tell you not to, you run around again after supper and Blaise sicks into Pansy's hair and she starts to cry. But the grown ups aren't that upset.

"It's Christmas."

"They're children."

"Boys will be boys."

"Bambino! What will I do with you?"

"It's okay Pansy darling. Scourgify. There. Now go have fun sweetheart."

Mother presses a kiss to your forehead.

"Calm down Theo sweetie."

But you don't. And nobody minds. When you're Seven.

You keep laughing and running until you almost fall asleep and it's time for everyone else to go home and some children have to be carried out in their parents arms.

"We had a lovely time."

"We must meet up soon after the holidays."

"Thank you so much for having us."

"Goodbye."

And Father smiles with his eyes and Mother smiles with her eyes _and_ her mouth. When you're Seven.

"We loved having you. It was an absolute pleasure."

And when they're all gone and it's just you and Mother and Father you yawn the biggest yawn you've yawned yet and Mother says "Bedtime for someone I think."

And you mumble "Not tired."

But you wrap your arms around her neck anyway and let her carry you to bed. And Father follows with the lamp.

And they both tuck you in and kiss your forehead and whisper goodnight.

"Goodnight Theodore."

"Sweet dreams baby."

And Father smiles with his eyes and Mother smiles with her eyes _and_ her mouth.

And they shut the door and as you're left in the comforting darkness your eyes close and you fall asleep. Happy.

When you're Seven.

It's very different when you're Eight.

You don't get up early. You lie in bed for a very very long time. When you can't stand it any longer you make your way to Father's room. You slip into his bed and he doesn't say anything. Doesn't acknowledge you. Doesn't move. You lay your head on Mother's pillow and wish your head was her head. Father wishes it too. His eyes don't smile any more.

When you're Eight.

You go downstairs alone. Father stays in bed. You try to open some presents but your eyes start to sting. You keep going and put all the wrapping paper in a neat pile. You order the house elves to clean it up and take your presents to your room. When you're Eight.

You don't go out visiting. The Grandparents come to you.

Grandfather and Grandmother Nott are very old and serious. And sad. Like Father. Granny and Granda Rosier are also old and serious and sad. Like you. A tear cascades down Granny Rosier's cheek as she hugs you. You ask to be excused. You don't want to see them. When you're Eight.

You stay in the library. You pick a book. One of Mother's books. You read it. You read and read. But you need the toilet. You pass the sitting room on the way there and back. You catch snippets of their conversation.

"Evangeline loved Christmas."

"Growing up without a Mother."

"She made this house happy."

"That poor child."

"I miss her so much."

The last voice is Father's. He sounds so rough and raw. Like he's been crying. And drinking.

You go back to the library and stay there and don't leave until they leave.

There is no party this year. You and father have been invited to the Malfoys' but you don't go. You stay home together. When you're Eight.

The House is warm. The house elves have the fires blazing. But it's still so cold. And lonely. And dark.

The dark is still comforting. You can hide in the dark and no one can see your tears. And you can't see Father's.

You sit in your room and read a book. Mother's book. In the dark. And you feel lonely. And miserable. And you wish you were with Mother. You wish she was with you. But she isn't. When you're Eight.

The clock ticks. And the hours go by. And the stars come out. And you climb into bed.

And Father appears at the door. He comes over and hugs you tight. So tight you can't breathe. And you feel something wet falling on your hair. And you pretend it isn't his tears.

"I love you Theodore," you hear him hoarsely whisper.

And you pretend he hasn't whispered it.

And you wish Mother was here. And Father didn't_ have _to say he loves you. Or hug you. Because he didn't say or do it enough to Mother. And you're all that's left of Mother.

You wish you were Seven again. Seven and a baby. With a baby Christmas.

But you're not.

You're a big boy of Eight, almost Nine and all grown up, almost.

And Mother's dead.

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**Reviews are love. **


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